still. "Stop her! stop her! she is ill of the plague!" shouted the
crowd, preying panting on; but they came too late; the white vision had
gone down into the black, sluggish river, and disappeared.

"Who is it? What is it? Where is it?" cried two or three watchmen,
brandishing their halberds, and rushing up; and the crowd-a small mob of
a dozen or so-answered all at once: "She is delirious with the plague;
she was running through the streets; we gave chase, but she out-stepped
us, and is now at the bottom of the Thames."

Ormiston, waited to hear no more, but rushed precipitately down to the
waters edge. The alarm has now reached the boats on the river, and many
eyes within them were turned in the direction whence she had gone down.
Soon she reappeared on the dark surface--something whiter than snow,
whiter than death; shining like silver, shone the glittering dress and
marble face of the bride. A small batteau lay close to where Ormiston
stood; in two seconds he had sprang in, shoved it off, and was rowing
vigorously toward that snow wreath in the inky river. But he was
forestalled, two hands white and jeweled as her own, reached over the
edge of a gilded barge, and, with the help of the boatmen, lifted her
in. Before she could be properly established on the cushioned seats, the
batteau was alongside, and Ormiston turned a very white and excited face
toward the Earl of Rochester.

"I know that lady, my lord! She is a friend of mine, and you must give
her to me!"

"Is it you, Ormiston? Why what brings you here alone on the river, at
this hour?"

"I have come for her," said Ormiston, pressing over to lift the lady.
"May I beg you to assist me, my lord, in transferring her to my boat?"

"You must wait till I see her first," said Rochester, partly raising her
head, and holding a lamp close to her face, "as I have picked her out, I
think I deserve it. Heavens! what an extraordinary likeness!"

The earl had glanced at the lady, then at his page, again at the lady,
and lastly at Ormiston, his handsome countenance full of the most
unmitigated wonder. "To whom?" asked Ormiston, who had very little need
to inquire.

"To Hubert, yonder. Why, don't you see it yourself? She might be his
twin-sister!"

"She might be, but as she is not, you will have the goodness to let me
take charge of her. She has escaped from her friends, and I must bring
her back to them."

He half lifted her as he spoke; and the boatman, glad enou